The Four Stages of Loving Dutch Owen

by Debra Kayn

  "Doing what I've wanted to do for a long time." He stepped up to the bed and grabbed her ankles, pulling her until she fell flat on her back. "Remember the orgasm you had, rubbing against me?"

  That morning when she was sixteen years old, alone with him at Rachel and Skull's house, had replayed in her head every time she touched herself. She panted. Her experience was the most important thing to her because, for the last five years, that's all she had of Dutch.

  "That was the sweetest thing in my memories, and every time I beat myself off, it was your pretty, little face in front of me." He gripped the hem of her shorts and yanked.

  She gasped at the sudden rush.

  His gaze lowered, and he growled. "That orgasm you had with me and the ones you've had without me will not come close to what you're going to have tonight."

  Her heart thrummed—half in fear, half in pleasure.

  She'd seen how big his cock was moments ago, and then he threatened her with it. He had her confused and unprepared. She'd gone to work that evening, never imagining him walking into the pool hall.

  He pushed up her tank and kissed her stomach. His whiskers brushed her abdomen and the tops of her thighs. While he circled his tongue along her skin, his fingers hooked the sides of her thong and dragged the material down her legs.

  Losing control, she tried one last time. "You can't come back and—"

  "Can." He nuzzled her pussy, parting her lower lips with his tongue.

  Her thighs quivered, hugging Dutch's head. Her arousal heightened with each sweep of his wet, warm tongue.

  He moved, going between her legs, taking more of her in his mouth. Weakened, she reached for him. He clasped her hands and pinned them to the bed, settling her. Having that touch was more than she'd had in so long.

  Her chest heaved up and down. She cried inside. "Dutch..."

  He held her down, keeping her from sitting up and crawling into his lap. His mouth like a prison. She couldn't escape.

  She needed him.

  She wanted this.

  Both wishes went against everything he wanted for her. She thrashed on the bed, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions, both physical and mental.

  She needed more.

  She wanted all of him.

  Warmth spread throughout her. Every muscle spasmed, bucking her on the bed.

  She needed to come.

  She wanted him to stay.

  Her next breath wasn't promised. She squeezed Dutch's hands as if she could drag him into her to hold forever.

  He lifted his head and crawled up beside her. She turned to cling to him, and he picked her up, rearranging her spiraling body until she straddled his head.

  "I want to see you." He hooked her thighs and pulled her down until she was sitting on his face.

  The suction of his mouth in that position crumbled her. She moaned. Her hips moved on their own. She reached down and grabbed his hair, fisting the strands and not letting him leave her.

  He used his tongue to lick between nipping and sucking her. She rode his mouth, urged on by her arousal.

  Her wetness mixed with his beard. The sensations were more exotic than her fingers.

  He untangled her hands from his hair and threaded his fingers through hers, bracing her. With most of her weight supported by him, her pussy warmed, and the insistent need to orgasm rushed through her.

  As if starving, Dutch never stopped assaulting her. He stroked and munched and rubbed her sensitive clit.

  Her toes curled, and she squeezed his hands. Their connection traveled through her, electrifying her.

  She held on tightly, keeping him with her. Floating between the shock of having him back and wondering if he was a delusion, she became desperate and needy.

  She panted, grinding against him, rubbing against his face. His beard—just the right amount of roughness. His chin—caused wonderful pressure.

  She moved and moved. Her body refused to stop. As if an orgasm would make him a reality, she desperate rode his face.

  Pleasure reached up inside of her and exploded. She moaned. The sound coming from the deep hollowness inside her soul, crying for attention and love. Echoing in the stark bedroom.

  The tension in her spine snapped, and she bowed her back, hanging her head. Her arms shook, and if not for Dutch holding her up, she would've collapsed on top of him.

  She struggled to fill her lungs around the racing of her heart.

  Dutch let go of her hands and spanned her waist, lifting her up and moving her down to his stomach.

  His cock pulsed hard against her ass. Unable to move, she stared at him in question.

  "Tell me if you gave your pussy to anyone while I was gone." His deep voice rattled her.

  Had she...? Was he...?

  "Marla Marie?" He rubbed her thighs. "My cock is behind you. Feel what I have for you."

  She reached behind her and gripped his dick, running her hand along its length and testing the width.

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. She'd never had anything inside of her that big or that long.

  "You want it?" He squeezed her thighs. "You're going to have to put yourself on me. I don't want to hurt you by doing it myself."

  She twisted, looking over her shoulder. His cock looked even angrier. Long swollen veins lined the length of him, and the bulbous head stared up at her with its one eye, tempting her, teasing her.

  Dutch's stomach tightened, and he groaned. "Give my cock a little taste of your pussy."

  She raised her ass off him and scooted back, looking down, between her legs. Her inner thighs were coated with her own pleasure and Dutch's saliva.

  He reached between her legs and fisted the base of his cock. "I'll hold on to it until you want me to move my hand. You can take that much until you're used to me."

  With him taking away four fingers worth of his cock, she grew more confident that she could put what remained inside her.

  Moving until she aligned with him, she held on to his shoulders and backed up until the tip of him pressed against her pussy. Holding her breath, she kept pushing until she thought most of him was inside her.

  Dutch's upper body expanded with each ragged breath. She looked at him to see if she was doing it right, and his eyes stared back at her with the lids half-covering his eyes. It was the closest she'd been to him since seeing him in prison.

  The wrinkles on Dutch's face that Alyssa had told her about were there. At the corners of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, peeking out the top of his beard. As were the gray strands in his beard that had multiplied. There was a new red scar on his forehead, and she had no idea what had happened to cause it.

  Without letting go of his dick, he used his thumb on her clit. Her pussy squeezed down, and she winced.

  "Relax." He circled his thumb lightly on her. "You have a little more you can take."

  Her gaze jerked to his, and she swallowed. "More?"

  "When you're ready."

  Her heart was going to fly out of her chest. She looked down at where his body connected to hers and pushed her body down. Her pussy spasmed, tightening, stealing her breath.

  "Fuck," he muttered. "I could come inside of you."

  That wasn't what she wanted. If they were going to have sex, she wanted to do what the other women had done with him. She doubted if any of them were scared to have sex with him because of his size.

  Puckering her lips, she exhaled slowly until her pussy relaxed. "Let go."

  His gaze narrowed, and for a second, she thought he wasn't going to do what she asked, and then he took his hand off himself and held her hips without pushing her to take more of him. And, if she could've concentrated more, she would've pointed out that he held her up, so she couldn't slip down on him too fast.

  Going slow wasn't working. She couldn't seem to slide or push down anymore.

  Breathing as best she could, she thrust onto him and stiffened. A brief burn paralyzed her. His hands tightened on her and his thighs constricted underne
ath her.

  As soon as the pain came, it went. She opened her eyes and found him watching her. The closeness too much for her, she lowered her body to his chest, feeling his arms wrap around her.

  She buried her face in the spot between his neck and shoulder and slid her arms down until she could hug his upper body.

  Warmth like nothing she had ever experienced before filled her, and Dutch shuddered on a groan without her moving. She stayed fully impaled on him.

  His body eventually relaxed, and he stroked her hair. She had no idea how long they laid there. By the time he rolled her to her side, his cock had slipped out of her.

  He got up from the bed and walked out of the room. She stared at the wall. Afraid he would keep walking until he reached his Harley.

  She never ran after him. She never called his name.

  He'd taken her virginity, or maybe she'd given it to him. In the emotional upheaval of him returning, she couldn't decide who was responsible.

  She only knew that things had changed between them. Being with him was no longer easy and comfortable the way it was in the past.

  Sex had entered their relationship. And she had no idea if he planned to be a part of her life.

  Chapter 26

  DUTCH RETURNED TO THE bedroom and slipped a warm, wet towel between Marla Marie's legs, wiping his come off her and soothing any pain she must've taken from him.

  There was a light smear of blood on his dick when he'd washed. Not shocked to find out she hadn't been with anyone but him.

  He'd hoped to dodge hurting her, but it was unavoidable. A necessary part of becoming sexually active, and he sure in the hell was going to have sex with her again.

  Already, he wanted her.

  He leaned over and kissed the rise of her bare hip. "Are you hurting?"

  She never moved or answered him. He'd given her time to get over her shock of him returning.

  "Marla Marie, answer me."

  "Why?" She rolled over onto her back and sat up. "You're going to leave again."

  "I'm not leaving. Not yet." He sat on the edge of the bed. "I have nine days before I have to get back on the road."

  "Nine days, ten years, an hour." She stood and walked out of the room. In the hallway, she said, "I can never trust you again."

  The bathroom door shut. He walked to the kitchen. She was wrong.

  Her mother had a habit of leaving her, but he never would. Circumstances kept him away, but he would always come back.

  Finding coffee in the cupboard, he made a pot. While he waited for her to shower, he looked through her kitchen, finding only enough food to barely keep her alive. Nothing to sustain her, but a half-eaten brick of cheese, saltine crackers, and a box of Cheerios that he wondered how she planned to eat because there was no milk in her fridge.

  Marla Marie entered the kitchen, wearing a long T-shirt he recognized as one of his she'd taken years ago and her damp hair falling down her back, wetting the material covering her butt. She headed straight to the cupboard and took the only mug.

  He leaned against the counter, taking in the changes. She'd grown more beautiful over the years. There was a confidence in her sexuality that now surprised him, knowing he was the first to have her pussy.

  She always craved attention and was free with her affection through her teenage years. It killed him, sitting in prison, thinking she could give someone else what she'd always saved for him.

  She belonged to him regardless if she had turned to sex to fill the years they were separated, but he was a man and had to admit that knowing she hadn't been with someone else bolstered his ego.

  Rachel always worried about Marla Marie being too wild and careless, especially with him. Considering the lifestyle she'd grown up in, she could've easily had any man she looked at.

  She stared at the coffee maker. He tagged her arm, bringing her up against the length of his body.

  She met his gaze. "Why are you doing this to me? Haven't you hurt me enough?"

  "I hurt you for your own good."

  She shook her head. "You cut me out of your life."

  He held on to her when she tried to push herself away. "You couldn't keep coming to the prison. It was killing you."

  "No, it killed me to see you in prison." She shoved against him, and he let her go. "You promised never to leave me."

  "I never did."

  "You're so full of shit." She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.

  "What?"

  She glanced at him. "All I ever wanted was you."

  "I know that."

  "You set me free." Her eyes welled up with tears. "You talk about me not handling all the prison visits—"

  "You stopped living. You weren't going out with your friends. You wouldn't talk to Rachel and Skull. You were losing weight—weight you couldn't afford to lose."

  "What you did by breaking up with me hurt more than anything I've experienced in my life." Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. "I thought I was dying not having you in my life. Now, you show up and have sex with me. I can't do it."

  "You want me to go?"

  She stared at him, opening and closing her mouth. He never gave it a thought that she'd not want him in her life.

  He'd expected her to be pissed. But Marla Marie was his.

  "Yeah, I do," she whispered.

  "You don't."

  She pressed a hand to her heart, but he could see her trembling. "I know you were with other women when you were released. I wasn't the first person you wanted to see or the second."

  "Jesus Christ," he muttered.

  She scoffed. The lifestyle he lived afforded him many benefits. One being sex was thought of as a recreational activity. What happened in the bedroom with Marla Marie wasn't the same.

  "Do you think I could come to you after being in prison for five years, knowing I'd hurt you the minute I was out? Not only would my size scar you, but I wanted you too much. I would never be able to do what we did earlier," he said.

  "That wasn't your decision to make." She rolled her shoulders inward. "I would never have a relationship like Rachel and Skull and allow you to be with other women.

  "I don't want that." He exhaled loudly. "What we have between us doesn't compare to their relationship, or anyone else's, for that matter."

  "You told me I belong to you."

  "You do."

  She snapped her gaze to him. "You broke the rules at the prison on purpose. You broke your promise to me."

  "Marla Marie..."

  "You need to leave." She hugged herself.

  He had nine days with her. Lifting her chin, he kissed her softly. "I'll be at the pool hall if you need me."

  She stared at his chest. Checking his back pocket for his pistol, he stepped away from her.

  Turning her back toward him, she held on to the counter. He let himself out.

  He'd be back. It wasn't over.

  Knowing her better than she knew herself, he expected her to go through the four stages of loving him all over again. He wouldn't be surprised if the next time he came to her, she ripped him a new asshole.

  Chapter 27

  MARLA EXPECTED DUTCH to be at the pool hall, knowing he was in town for a while. She'd spent all day preparing herself for the next time she would come face to face with him.

  She stared at the back of his head as he talked to one of his MC brothers. She was scheduled to work until two o'clock in the morning. That was eight hours of having him nearby. Eight hours she would be reminded of having sex with him.

  Rubble lifted his brows and studied her without asking any questions about her leaving early yesterday. "Looks like a long night. There's an intense challenge going on at Table Four."

  She glanced across the room, surprised to find Dutch heading toward the pool table with a cue stick in his hand. But then again, he never played when she was around because he stayed with her.

  Exhaling slowly, she willed herself not to be jealous of him hanging around the men. She bit the inside of he
r cheek, looking for the regular women who hung out at the pool hall. They were always hooking up with the bikers. Not one of them better think of touching him around her.

  "No worries." She walked around Rubble and stopped at the end of the counter. "I'll make sure the drinks keep flowing. Where do you need me?"

  "Go ahead and check the ketchup bottles." Rubble moved away from her. "I'll carry the racks in."

  The pool hall opened at five o'clock every evening, while she started at six o'clock. That gave her and Rubble time to get things moving by the time the crowd arrived around eight-ish. From then on, she normally stayed busy, barely getting a moment to stand still.

  Tonight, she needed the distraction.

  Gathering four new bottles from underneath the counter, she worked from one end of the bar to the other. The condiments stayed off the tables. If the customers wanted one, they usually grabbed one as needed. That way, the tables were easier to clean throughout the night.

  Tyler walked toward her and leaned against the counter. "Have you seen Piston?"

  She made a quick sweep of the room. "No, but I haven't been here long. Have you checked with Rubble?"

  "Not yet." Tyler took an envelope out of his back pocket. "I need to take off. Can you do me a favor and give this to him when he shows up?"

  "Sure." She took the packet. "I'll put it in the register until I see him. If he doesn't show up, you'll know where it's at."

  "Thanks, doll." Tyler knocked on the counter before he left.

  She went to the cash register and slid the envelope under the drawer for safekeeping, then went and checked the napkin dispensers.

  "Beer!"

  She gazed across the room and found Shifter raising his hand. Grabbing a cold Coors out of the fridge, she popped the cap and took his drink to him. Most of the customers had their preference for what they liked to drink. She tried to cater to them. The extra attention she gave was returned to her in the form of bigger tips.

  Walking past Dutch, she focused on Shifter. "Here you go."

  He grunted his thanks. "Keep them coming, sweetheart."

  All men tended to drink more if they were losing. Though she suspected if they concentrated on the game and not the beer, they'd do better.